


pins

by deltachye



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drabble, Gift Fic, One Shot, Other, Reader-Insert, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x akashi seijuro]Ever smooth, Akashi Seijuro.[for chika]





	

It was no surprise that Akashi Seijuro was a man of particular tastes. He’d been raised on excellence, and it wasn’t long before he found out about your weekend style of sweatpants and old Snoopy t-shirts from the fourth grade. Although he reassured you that his state of being so utterly _appalled_ was not due to your appearance, but rather the fact that his precious woman wasn’t living the ultimate life of luxury, he rushed you to his personal tailor the very next day.

“Really, Sei,” you sighed, as yet another pin pricked the sensitive skin of your waist. You flinched as the old lady’s hands and talon-like nails jabbed you in the side to reposition the fabric. “I told you, this wasn’t necessary.”

“I also needed to get a new suit done. You don’t need to worry about it.”

The woman measuring you suddenly disappeared, hustling off before you could ask her if you could move. Your hands were still up in a Rose-esque way, and they were tiring out. You let out a small puff of a sigh. Carefully, you lowered your arms, trying to avoid getting stabbed. With no choice to look at anything else, you looked at yourself in the multitude of mirrors set up around you. With a tiny smile, you struck a small pose. You couldn’t deny that you looked good. Hell, you looked _damn_ good, but you still couldn’t help feeling bad that Akashi had come all this way, spending his valuable time to watch you get fitted. He wasn’t even watching, really, sitting on the other side of a screen divider. Just as you thought that, he appeared.

“See?” he said, startling you as you looked down to reposition your feet. You looked up to see him coming up behind you, hands in his trouser pockets, a smug grin on his sharp features. Immediately, your face went red.

“I-I’m not wearing clothes!” you protested, “this is just a bunch of fabric stuck together!”

“All the better,” he simpered, taking a step closer. A shudder ran through you when you felt his cool, large hands rest on either side of your hips, the touch of his bare skin against your thigh almost enough to have you fainting off the pedestal.

“You’re not a tailor,” you stammered out, an attempt to use humour to hide your flustered state. Akashi played along, his hands running lower and lower. The step made you taller than him, and you wobbled, immediately feeling him supporting your weight as you did.

“Actually, I took a multitude of classes. The Parisians quite liked my spring designs.”

“In what world does a businessman need to know about sewing ladies’ dresses?” you teased. He smirked right back to you.

“So that I can do… this.”

You suddenly realized why his fingers had been hovering around the seams. The pins were out and you yelped, the cry stifled by a scalding hot kiss as he yanked you off of the step. You fell against him, his strong body supporting your whole weight as his arm wrapped around your bare back.

“Seijuro!” you hissed breathlessly, once you’d pulled away to take a gulp of air. He kissed your neck and your nape, lips trailing fire as you reminded him desperately, “what about the tailor?! She’ll come back—”

“What _about_ the tailor? I’m your tailor, now, and I think you look much better without any clothes at all.”

Maybe Akashi was well-versed in the world of fashion after all.


End file.
